


A  timeless  bloody symphony

by Muspell



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gothic Romance, Vampire AU, Vampire Hunter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muspell/pseuds/Muspell
Summary: They kept telling him it was a dream. His was a town dedicated to hunting the strange and dangerous; the man in his dreams was both. He wouldn’t have survived if he wasn't more than a mirage.They kept telling him he was hallucinating things, the stress of his job as a hunter was getting to him. It happens, they said. The best of us have fallen to the weight of the dead; some of these demons speak too sweet, lie too well. They kept telling him to forget, but James knew the man was real. And he was going to find him no matter the cost.
Relationships: Mark Deck/One Topic At A Time
Kudos: 11





	1. The  man in  my  dreams

They kept telling him it was a dream. His was a town dedicated to hunting the strange and dangerous; the man in his dreams was both. He wouldn’t have survived if he wasn't more than a mirage. 

But James knew he was real. He felt real enough at least, even though his hands were as cold as ice every time he caressed his cheek. For some reason it wasn’t threatening to have a strange man at the side of his bed, watching him sweetly, letting his fingers run circles over the back of his hands. It was comforting. Like a good friend he‘s forgotten all about. He remembered the warmth spreading through his chest at the other's presence, the exact look of his face. He could not remember his voice. There were no words spoken. James felt like in the midst of a dream when the strange man came to visit him, sauntering casually through his balcony door. He wouldn't get up, just let the sequence start over again, embrace the gentle touch of someone he could have sworn he knew but couldn’t remember fully. It was only that after all: no real danger, just the recognition of someone who refused to stay away, a subtle act of devotion that seemed larger than reality but then again, as faint as a fever dream.

They kept telling him he was hallucinating things, the stress of his job as a hunter was getting to him. It happens, they said. The best of us have fallen to the weight of the dead; some of these demons speak too sweet, lie too well. They kept telling him to forget, but James knew the man was real. And he was going to find him no matter the cost. 

* * *

James had been out of his own house for weeks, tracking down a werewolf with a particular taste for little children. The beast was even proud enough to explain in detail his twisted choice of diet so happily he didn’t even hesitate; his scythe cut cleanly through his neck before the murderer could finish his monologue.

James wasn’t a veteran in any way and often tried to reason with demons and monsters, much to their amusement. This time wasn’t one of them. The choice was clear. 

He took his payment quietly and honorably, bringing his condolences to the parents of the children he couldn’t save. He did this every time: pray for those who were gone, pray for those who live with grief, and ask for _him_. Someone out there must know him. Pale white skin, as cold and comforting as a winter breeze, soft dark hair, a dark brown stare as sweet as honey and just as alluring, just as hard to wash away from your mind. A mouth that moves but makes no sound. Everytime he got the same response. 

_I’m sorry, I don’t think I've ever met a man like that._

He hasn’t even seen him in a while. Maybe because of the exhaustion from the job that didn’t allow him to dream of him anymore. Maybe because the man didn't know where to find him. There were specific places he slept in during his wandering, places untouched by unclean thoughts, that seemed to keep _him_ away. A monk has lent him a spot in his church cell to shelter in for the past two weeks. A spot so clean and pure no visitor came. 

There were also no windows. James might have gotten his nightly protector if he had a window. But there was no way the man could step in between the bars of the tiny skylight above their heads. And if he did, and the priest saw the apparition, how could he even explain it? Was it a ghost? Was it a demon? He knew the man had no ill intent towards him, he’s had his chance before. James was never hurt, never branded. But he’s killed for less.

He wanted to believe this was a friend. A companion. A guardian angel of sorts. At least the sparkle in his deep dark stare made him seem that way, untouchable. 

Going back home felt like a relief, a huge weight taken off his back. Of course, as soon as he arrived, his neighbours would check on him, so he had to be quick in sorting out his gear and shake the stiffness out of his sore shoulders. He was never the quickest of his kind, he’s doubted his line of work too often. They always made sure he remembers that. 

“Hey big guy, got yourself a good one today huh?” a gigantic beast of a man grabbed him by the shoulders the second James managed to put a foot outside his front door. Elrich was always too loud for his taste but that wasn't what James disliked about him the most. It was the penetrating smell of alcohol emanating from him. Hunters were always seen as outsiders to society, no one cares if you're a lost drunk as long as you could kill. There was always something inherently wrong about that idea, staining the honor his career should bring. A merciless killer should not be praised. “I’ve been there, that wolf bitch was sneaky as hell! How did you get him out ?” 

“I was sober, Elrich.” James forcefully pushed his colleague’s arm off his shoulders. “You should try that some time.” 

“Heh. I bet he found you funny.” the hunter said with a smirk. “I bet he _loved_ to hear you trying to ask him to :stop devouring kiddies, pretty please ?”

“I have a job to do'' James turned to the town‘s church, where hunters would get their assignments. He didn’t want to leave so quickly but he’s been missing the man in the night so much he forgot about the people he worked with. There was honour in protecting the folk, there’s none in cold blooded murder. His peers didn’t seem to see it that way. He always worked alone. “You should try and get on it, too, if you respect your title at all.” He usually tried to be polite and accommodating, but there were some people who just didn’t deserve his grace. 

“Oh no.” his superior recognized James as soon as he crossed the gateway, even with the daylight shining behind him. She was raised on the job, one of the best this town has produced. She was quick and ruthless but could be so kind to her own. A slash across her thigh from a Wendigo earned her an early retirement: she somehow managed not to lose her leg to infection but the limping made her too weak for the battlefield. She was still unmatched, even two years after her last hunt. 

“No? I’m just here for a job- '' He walked over to the pulpit she used as a desk, in order to be aware of her surroundings at any moment. Once a hunter, always a hunter. 

“ _I know.”_ Human one huffs. She had taken that name as a joke, seeing as everyone else around her would cover themselves in pelts and trophies from their hunts. She looked like the only human hunter in her group. It eventually stuck. “I just got the messenger this morning. You’re not getting a new assignment ” 

“But I need to work! There are people dying-” James whined like a child. It was ridiculous but he knew making his superior laugh always got him points. 

“There are a ton of hunters, too! You’re good, but you're not the only one.” Human one tried to keep a straight face. “You need to sleep.” 

“What I need to do is make a difference.” He insisted but she wouldn’t budge. “I need to stay on the road.” 

“I know _some people_ are annoying but you can’t just allow yourself to waste away like that. We need you and we need you strong for you to be useful. You won’t rescue any dying people if you cannot save yourself first.” She sighed. He knew it was a childish excuse but he just couldn't tell her he had to find the man in his dreams. In the worst case scenario she might make _him_ a target. Or even declared him insane and put him into retirement. He couldn’t bargain with those odds. “You know what? I’m giving you an assignment. It’s gonna be the only one you got so it’s this or going back home.'' She quickly set up the card in front of her and sealed it for him. A silly thing to do in a situation like this but the ceremony of it was always appreciated. It made it feel less like bloodshed. 

He quickly snapped the seal open but the card was only one sentence long. “Stay home for the full week and rest?” He complained. “This is not an assignment, this is babysitting!”

“I don’t like having to babysit you either and yet here we are.” She replied with a smile. “Now take your mission and make it God's will.”

He could joke and vent and drink all he wanted with her around town but in this sacred place she was the voice of God and she must be taken as such. “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and sighed as he walked away.

A full week was too long a time for a break. He could only hope Elrich’s gang was out of town soon enough, otherwise he would end up involved in bar fights he wasn't willing to participate in. Elrich was a good foot taller than him and had the strength of an ox but he was also clumsy and hot headed. James didn’t want to, but he knew he could take him down if he needed to.But the rest of the gang wouldn't leave him alone if he did; his fame as a merciful hunter is all that keeps them from trying to tag along. The thought of that made the strain on his back flare back to life. Maybe a week was too long, but he could do with a few hours in his own bed. He missed his home. 

He missed his visitor. It’s been a while. Maybe this time he could see him again?


	2. A creature of  the Dark

James had laid down for a quick nap, but somehow woke up after sunset. His home was at a far point of town, bordering the forest; his dad used to tell him not to wander too far into the woods. There was evil more dangerous than wolves hidden in its shadows. As a child it sounded more appealing than terrifying but he's always been a good boy. He's always listened.

He knew it had to be safe enough, being right next to a town known by its hunters. If there was anything living there it must have been exterminated a long time ago. There couldn't be anything crouching in the darkness, whistling low over the gentle breeze that makes his windows shiver. But it did sound like that.

James had slept more than he needed and was now restless and free. He hadn't had free time in a while. What were his hobbies again? He loved fencing but it was hardly a hobby if it was a part of the job. He couldn't show up to the church to wander around the library since Human one wasn't there anymore and the archives were closed. What did people do when they got restless in the middle of the night?

He sighed. There was one thing he did at night and it was waiting for the charming stranger that kept coming back to his bedside. He hasn't seen the man in a while but maybe he has been just too tired to wake up during the hunt. Even knowing he could show up, James could let his guard down for the first time in weeks. The stranger would never hurt him after all; he could have done that a long time ago. 

He realized he was staring at the woods when his hand touched the freezing window frame. He didn't even notice when he left his bed. The wind amongst the trees seemed to calm down when he reached, hand against the glass, for the emptiness before him. 

A walk couldn't hurt. James was not afraid of things lurking in the dark after all. 

* * *

  
  


The dry dirt lifting up in small whirlwinds by the breeze made James feel he was still in a dream, pacing slowly through the deserted streets by himself. No one but the security forces were out at this hour, and maybe a drunk or two trying to get home before exhaustion finds them. The stars shone so bright. He always loved the night sky but hasn't looked at it as anything but a tool in so long he's forgotten how beautiful it could be. The smell of rot and stale water in the street barely phased him, staring up into the firmament, just letting the soft wind ruffle his hair. 

"Sir? Sir are you in need of assistance?" A guard rapidly separated himself from his post to walk firmly towards him. If James didn't know any better he'd think he was about to strike, hand tight around his sword. 

"I'm just having a stroll, Sir, nothing more. I'm sure that's no problem." He replied softly but firm. Was there a new curfew he didn't know about? 

"It's dangerous to be out at this time of night. I ask you kindly to go back to your home." The soldier repeated, shifting his stance. James wasn't willing to fight, he just needed to clear his head and this man was not helping. He showed the guard the badge pinned on the inside of his vest, the church's emblem given to hunters for their service to God and men. Most hunters flaunted them but he felt like it was too much of an honorable duty to brag about it. He did it for the greater good after all, not the prestige. "Oh. I'm so sorry if I was an inconvenience, please accept my apology " the guard bowed down at the sight of the insignia and stepped aside. James hated this kind of thing, but if it was what it took to be left alone right now he'd have to make use of it. 

His attention shifted quickly when a weird screech resonated in an alleyway closeby. It felt as if a wild animal would try to replicate the sound of blades clashing against each other. "I have to go, I'm sorry." James strutted to the alley to check what the sound was. It couldn't have been just a regular animal, could it?

The thin pathway a couple of houses away from his own led straight to an opening in the darkness of the woods; there was barely a reflection of the moonlight shining into the pools of muddy water scattered across the ground. No hideouts, no holes big enough in the walls. But there was certainly something, he heard it clearly. Didn't he?

He couldn't have dreamt it, could he? 

He took a step forward and a soft growl echoed besides him. There was the silhouette of an enormous cat glaring at him from a rooftop, nothing but wild mane, glistening eyes and the low rumble of danger. James tried to shoo him away but the cat pounced on him. Or so he thought: when he opened his eyes he realized he just took a step back and against the wall. The cat was nowhere to be seen. He rapidly strutted to the line where the dirty soil cut against the greenery of the forest floor.  _ Don't ever step into the woods, no matter what you hear. There are beasts more fowl than wolves amongst the shadows.  _

James couldn't find the courage to take one more step. His father's warnings still felt so real, even after the experience he accumulated in the field. But the strange meow resonated in between the foliage. The cat was in one of the branches, staring. He hesitated and took a step back and the cat jumped off; he couldn't see him touching the ground. Suddenly the meow came from amongst the foliage, the cat resting calmly at the foot of a tree, licking at his paws. 

James had to be dreaming. This was not possible, the whole thing felt like a mirage: there was nothing he knew of that could behave like that. Not as calm anyways: usually monsters were feral, wild but this one seemed well fed and groomed. He looked like a noble family's pet. James decided to get back to bed: there was no way any of this was real. But when he turned the cat suddenly appeared to his right, standing on the wall as if God's laws bent for it, hissing loudly. It sounded metallic, like the screeching of blades clashing. He lost all control over his fear and ran home, banging his door shut for good behind him. 

He took a minute to recover his breath. What was that? It sounded like nothing he read about before, nothing he encountered on his travels. It sounded hellish.

He went back to his bed and crawled underneath the covers, stepping out of his clothes on his way. This could not be true, Human one was right, the exhaustion was getting to him. 

He heard the window crack open and sat up in his bed, wrapping his covers tightly around himself like a startled kid. He couldn't seem to get the sense of dread off of him. 

He could almost smell it, the breeze of winter the visitor always brought with him. His seemingly expensive clothes looked tattered at the edges by time; the bright red kravat clashing against black. The man of his dreams sauntered over to his bed to sit at his side, two fingers slowly tracing the line of James' jaw, sharp underneath his neatly cut beard. The warmth behind the deep brown stare always seemed so soothing, as if he could see exactly what James was worried about and claw it out of his chest. It felt like hours drowning in the delicate touch, the charm of the man's subtle moves, never breaking eye contact for a second while his fingers ran down to the back of his neck and long fingernails traced their way back to his chin. The visitor moved slowly out of his frame of vision at this to turn slowly towards the open window. 

A regal looking cat was licking the dust off his wild ginger fur absentmindedly. James recognized it as soon as it emitted that horrible screech.

He suddenly sat up on his bed, alone and desperately studying the light shining through his own window. He was certain it couldn't have been a nightmare. He knew what he had to do. The hellcat was his way to reach the stranger in his mind.

He had to find it again, no matter what it would take. No matter where he needed to go. 


	3. A  drunken mirage

James tried to shake off the goosebumps he could still feel when the screeching crawled back into his memory. The combination of the intimacy of the sweet cold touch and the hell spawn standing quietly at his windowsill made his mind wander at times. He still managed to not bump into his neighbors during his walk to get some beautiful flowers. He needed to talk to someone and he only knew one person he could talk to. And she liked flowers.

"You're not allowed in here." Human one didn't even look up, she didn't need to. She could recognize him by the sound of his steps, the way his shadow loomed over her. The smell of the flowers. Who else could bring flowers to their superior? "I told you a week, this is not a week." 

"I'm here for you,  _ I promise." _ He pulled his hands up, bouquet showing. "Just a talk. Can I have that?" He smiled at her until she decided to leave her documents behind. He knew she had a soft spot for him; she always ended up at least smiling back. At least listening to what he had to say. 

"You've got exactly-" she rapidly scribbled on the last assignment card before sealing it. "The small amount of time it'll take for the troops to get here. So make the best of it." 

He had her full attention now, but how could he even start making sense of whatever he saw the night before? He still couldn't figure out if all of it was real, if any of it was. He could remember the cool fingers tracing his skin like a ghost’s touch, and swallowed hard. "Do you - do you like cats?" 

She sighed before yelling a quick command at the guard in her office. "I'm taking my break - leave and keep the hunters away until I get back."

James followed her to the office she rarely ever used, and that showed: other than a vase with the flowers he got for her the last time he stopped by for a visit, withered and grey, there was nothing that indicated that room was even in use. Not even one paper out of place, not a chair moved. She threw the old flowers out the window and filled the vase up with holy water at a corner of the room. 

"Is that even allowed?" James still handed her the flowers and took a seat. "That's sanctified." 

"That's water. You can always bless more." She took the seat behind her desk and moved it next to James. "So, did you kill a neighbor's pet?" 

"What?"

"You need help with someone's cat? We can reason with them, maybe get them a new one-" 

"No, all cats are good!" He sounded exasperated but he couldn't have imagined for a second she was capable of thinking he would have murdered a kitty for whatever reason. "This was, though, was, let's say special" he hesitated his words enough for Human one to take an interest.

"Oh? Special how?" She leaned back into her chair, the wooden legs whining under her small frame.

"You know how cats sound?" He tried to be as clear as possible but his mind still felt scrambled by the vivid images of the night before. "Well, this one sounded like metal. Like swords in a battlefield. And it moved so fast-"

"That's not a cat." She interrupted him sharply. "I think you need to have a read. I don't know how you keep just  _ walking into _ trouble like this." She got up to check the library at their back. He didn't seem to find exactly what she was looking for. "It's like they can smell you and go running to meet you."

James couldn't help but think of his night visitor. He's been there for a year or two already, since he started hunting outside of town. "Yeah, I don't know. It was so weird. He moved so fast I can't tell if he was actually moving."

"Like an apparition?" She picked up an ancient looking book and shuffled through dusty pages. "They're not corporeal, could you touch it?"

"I didn't  _ try to!" _ He recalled the cat about to jump on him and instead disappearing in mid air. If there was an apparition there had to be a puppeteer, such as a witch, or a hex locked in the city. Or him. Could it be him? James hadn't dealt with warlocks in so long, it wouldn't make sense.

"Were you scared, big boy? I'm impressed" Human one chuckled. "Must be a verwy scawy kitty."

"It was weird, I said weird. Shut up." James crossed his arms and pouted like a little kid. "You know what? I'll find it myself." He said before muttering under his breath. "It's the only clue I’ve got about where to find  _ him _ anyway."

"Oh. That's what this is about, I see." She walked to him to place her hands on his shoulders. "The impossible man." 

"You keep saying he's not real. I know he is." 

"I’m not saying he necessarily isn't. I'm saying it's unreal how much you want him." She squeezed the sudden stiffness on his shoulders. 

"You don't understand, you know- have you ever met someone and it just felt right?" He took a moment before sighing as he brushed her hands away. "Doesn't matter. I can do this myself." 

"You need a drink. And I need a drink." Human one interrupted him before he could dismiss her. She knew he would: they've spent so much time together they knew each other's moves by heart. "Especially me; you've been away for weeks and I miss having a drinking buddy who doesn't try to grope me and then cry when I snap his fingers." 

"Sounds familiar, yeah." He chuckled at the memory of Elrich trying hard not to tear up after she bounced his head on the bar and broke his nose. "Yeah, you'll probably need a bit of a bodyguard, but what about your post? Don't you need to be here?" 

"They'll be happy to not find me and take the day off. Do you really think there's someone else like you around?" She snorted as she walked to the door. "They like blood, booze, and prestige, and they deserve none. But they're good: you can't deny that." She opened the door for him. "After you, my hero."

She was silly, in the best way. And James really needs the laugh. It's been a while since he had a quiet night out with friends, or at all really. He could use the drink. And maybe, just maybe, he could erase the sharp metallic growl from his mind.

* * *

James didn't even notice when the sun went down; Human one happened to have a lot to say. And he was grateful for it. All he had was his hunting stories; he's seemed to have left his own individuality behind to become a machine and nothing else. By the time they stepped into the chill of the night the moon was high up in the sky, illuminating their hesitant steps. Human one was small and her battle wound made her drunken walk so wobbly James even offered t o pick her up and carry her back home. But she was a headstrong woman: she wouldn't let him, instead trying to prove how agile she could still be even when the church deemed her unfit for the hunt. 

Until, of course, she eventually tripped over her own feet. James caught her by the hand before she fell to the ground, but let her go when he noticed the familiar silhouette behind her. "What are you doing?" She struggled to get up and turned around to find nothing. She must have been right: nothing moves this fast. "What did you see?" 

"The thing- the cat!" He ventured a few steps forward trying to peek into the shadows of the night. There was no trace of it.

"Oh, James…"

"I swear! It was there!" He ran in the direction of the woods, human one following at a distance. "You must have seen it!" He yelled before stopping suddenly. His father taught him better than running off into the forest.

"You know what they say. Your folks have been here for as long as mine." Human one said while trying to catch her breath. "The trees that grew out of dead ground feed on the blood spilled in them." 

"What? I-" he turned to her briefly but a sparkle in between the foliage distracted him. How did the cat get that far? 

"This place was just dirt and death. Trees sprouted at an abnormal rate and just covered what used to be a road. No one knows where it goes but that forest was always out of bounds." She held onto his arm for support, taking a time to find her words in between the drunken mist of her mind. "When the church decided to dedicate its knights to hunt monsters. You should know this." She hiccuped and giggled. "This is your story. You're a bad student, big guy." 

"What's over there, Human? You have to know." He'd like to lock eyes with her, to know what was on her mind but he feared the apparition would disappear the moment he looked away. 

"No one knows. The forest protected us from the predators. That's all the story says. It's both necessary and untouchable." She squeezed his arm in order to get his attention. "Listen to me. Don't go in there."

"But it's there." He looked at the woods again: the ominous glare seemed to have moved further into the night. "It has to be there." He grabbed her hand firmly before letting her go. "You should go back home."

"James you can't fight a damn  _ forest! _ " She yelled but didn't bother following him into the woods.

"That's the thing: I'm not fighting." He almost whispered to himself. "I just wanna know."

He's heard how blood magic worked: it latched onto the sorcerer's heart and did their bidding. It fed on hate but also recognized love. And James had no hatred towards the ground he was walking on. He noticed that, as he kept walking in a straight line and the foliage seemed to subtly open a pathway for him. 

He turned and there was no way back. Only the ginger demon walking circles around him, purring slightly. It seemed to not hate him as much tonight. 

The cat jumped through the spread out branches, beckoning him to follow, and James could do nothing but obey. His family was one of the founders of this town, built in between a harsh terrain, coarse due to war, and a filthy swamp. It became an oasis of life as the years passed but he's never heard the story before. He never knew. 

James was walking absentmindedly and tripped on what seemed to be a boulder on his way, but a glance around proved him wrong. He got up from the debris of a stone brick wall, moldy and hidden by the vines growing around it, a lonely tower still holding up behind it. He scanned the area around the tower in search of an entrance but the cat ran quickly in between his legs and to the back of the building, where an iron bar gate still stood latched into the stone. He tried to budge it open but the rust must have sealed it shut. He needed a tool he didn't have, a strength his body was slowly being drained of. He slept too little, drank too much. He needed to get back home. 

In the confusion of his exhaustion, he asked for help from the only one he could. "Hey kitty, hey kitty kitty." He called him closer to pet his head; the cat purred against his palm before rubbing against his legs. "You know how to go home, kitty? Of course you do, you're a clever one, aren't you?" 

The cat jumped back in a split second, encouraging to follow. The light of dawn was starting to peek through the trees and while the sight was mesmerizing he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to leave. Now. 

James ran behind the cat before whatever was about to come could catch him. Before he couldn't get out again.

When he awoke, it was in his own bed, blinded by the painful light of the midday sun and with a horrible hangover. His mouth felt like he just chewed on a fresh carcass as a midnight snack and his limbs were heavy with exhaustion. It's been so long since he drank and he remembered why now. Funnily enough, he could still remember every second of the night before.

Everything but how he got home. And if Human one got home okay. He owed her an apology. 

After a well deserved nap. A long nap.


	4. What's  hidden behind the debris

"You ditched me!" Human one shouted at James as he crossed the doorway, flowers in hand. Her voice felt like a tower bell being rung over his head. He was awful with hangovers. "You ditched me for a fucking spooky cat!"

He rubbed his temple with his free hand as he slowly walked forward. "It wasn't- I had to. You know I had to." 

"You had to go back to me, that's what you had to do." She stopped her feet as she met him halfway onto the corridor in between the benches. "I told you it was dangerous. I did it for a reason." It looked like she wanted to to slap him but forcefully took the flowers from him instead. "You could have never come back. People haven't."

"Because of the light?" He barely noticed the words leave his lips. He couldn't understand why, but there was something about seeing the sun come out in the woods that sent shivers down his spine. As if he could feel the forest telling him to leave. 

"Excuse me, are you still drunk?" Human one's voice danced in between a stern tone and a whine of concern. 

"When the sun came out. I ran. The cat told me to. Or the forest. Or-" or him, maybe? He couldn't say, he's never heard his voice. And it wasn't really a voice either, just a thought. Sudden, sharp. Run. 

"Huh." Human one slowly turned her back to him, lost in thought. "And was there anything there? A road?"

"A castle. Well, a tower. With a stone wall." He tried to remember the details but he could only see the building taller than his eyes could see, cutting into the horizon. Alone. He was so focused on following the cat he couldn't even tell what was under his feet. "Why?"

"Well, I have some reading to do. And you." She turned on her heels to point an accusatory finger at James. "You need to go back to bed. I've seen gutted corpses looking less dead than you." 

She had a point, he felt the world still shaking underneath him but he still had something to do. 

He wanted to see the sun through the trees.

* * *

James followed the path he already knew by heart: through the alleyway in between the houses on his block, where the woods loom over the town menacingly. A cloud of green and black obscuring a bright spring day. He couldn't see the cat anywhere but he'd found the tower before. He could do it again.

Although this time, he couldn't find the opening through the trees. In fact, the foliage was so thick it looked like a living block of green, completely impenetrable. A cold shiver ran down his spine, his whole body aching to move away, but he kept studying the weeds, trying to find the secret. But the forest just didn't seem to like him today.

Maybe that was why. Maybe it swallows everything that falls into it during the day. Maybe that was what told him to flee the first time. 

Maybe that was why Human one was so pissed at him. 

Maybe he was just delusional because of the exhaustion. His limbs ached, his head was screaming and his stomach started demanding some lunch. James decided to turn in his heels, make a quick stop at the inn. Maybe get some more rest. He knew he needed it. 

His head was clearly not clear enough. He must have been imagining things.

Right now all he could imagine was a fest laid out to him and he was gonna get one. He could deal with the woods later.

* * *

James had eaten, slept and felt like an entirely new man. But that had cost him almost the entire day. 

He didn't drink for a reason. It was mostly work, but also how angry his body got at him for mistreating it in lieu of a pleasant conversation. It's been so long since the last time Human one spent an evening with him, he just forgot. And the drinks just kept coming. It felt natural. But now James was way too awake to stay in bed and it was way too dark to do much else. He decided to do the one thing he could think of. He'd look for them.

Right in the same alleyway, where the branches looked inviting now, moving with the flow of an inexistent breeze, was the ginger cat, slowly cleaning his paw, waiting. The moment they locked eyes the cat meowed sweetly and turned to the open pathway through the woods. 

That wasn't there this morning. James had been tired and ill but he knew it wasn't. He still trusted blindly and followed the cat's lead, not without holding onto an abandoned twisted piece of iron, debris of a cart accident that was left behind.

It felt like a deja vu; even the wind that wasn't blowing in town seemed to caress his skin in the same pattern as the night before. Like walking within a dream; he tried to focus on details but his mind still felt cloudy, half asleep. Human one had mentioned a road, but the weeds were so overgrown he couldn't feel the stone beneath him. He did remember exactly where the back gate was, and walked to it, iron club in hand and swinging. 

The gate whined after a series of loud furious whacks, barely opening halfway but enough for him to squeeze through and over the boulders and smashed tiles at his feet. 

The tower looked like a lighthouse: there was nothing but a stone staircase swirling upwards. He could see a light above, faint in the distance; it could be a torch or the moon leaking through the gaps in the tattered wall. He took a deep breath and started climbing upwards but something stopped him. James felt heavy, as if something was holding him back, laced around his middle. 

He didn't know the voice, and yet he did. Somehow he knew. "This is not your place." He couldn't recognize the voice, but he could tell the cold touch of these fingers by heart, brushing softly against the nape of his neck. He felt like the visitor was almost purring into his ear, his lips almost touching his earlobe. "Go back home."

* * *

James woke up to the sunlight melting into his bedding. This time he didn't care; he couldn't understand how he got to his bed: he remembered exactly as much as he needed to. The silky smooth low growl slowly seeped into his ear, a touch so silly and yet so intimate and sweet it made his skin crawl in a different way than it did before. It didn't matter if this night did not make any sense. He's found it. 

He knew where to find the man in his dreams. He absentmindedly imitated the ghost touch still lingering on his neck before turning in his bed and hugging a good pillow tightly.

He finally knew.

James would be lying if he said he'd rested at all. His mind kept reminding him of the smooth low growl ringing in his ears, making him uneasy. He got out of bed soon enough but his limbs felt weak, his thoughts still clouded. Every cool breeze brushing against the skin of his neck startled him, every gust of wind whistling in his ear. James could hear the voice calling to him, warning him, even when he was convinced he was alone. He went for a walk, even had a light lunch near the riverbed at the other side of town but the soft murmur stuck with him. 

It felt like honey, sweet and inviting. Like molten rock, warm to the point of peril, but so beautiful he couldn't stay away. There was something in him that was telling him to run, something that was telling him to stay. He laid on the fresh soil to watch the sun above him but it had no answers for him. 

This was a swamp when his family got to this place for the first time. The forest drained the filth of it, the vermin. The same forest that opened a path for him, but only under the coat of night. The forest no one knew where it came from, but ate death and gave them life. 

The same that stood in between him and the man in his dreams. 

James shivered at the memory of these cold lips on his skin, his warm words carved into his mind. It was a warning but the hushed tone of it made it impossible for James to focus on the words. This is not your place, he said and James could not do anything but listen. If he'd asked James to stay he'd have probably obeyed too, even with the looming threat of dawn leaking through the trees. That voice was more soothing than a warm embrace on a winter night, more powerful than the fear of never coming back. He could have stayed,as long as he could have heard him again; as long as he could feel his cool skin against his. 

James looked away, to the still water; nothing had an answer for him,because he didn't have a question. He wanted a motive. The smallest excuse to come back, to see him again, to feel him again. 

And he knew of only one person who could not understand, but listen. James knew he needed to get out of his head or the voice would consume him, and he couldn't figure out whether that was something to fear or to hope for.

* * *

Human one almost didn't recognize him; there were so very few times she heard James move so quickly, so desperately. Especially when the green he brought for here weren't flowers in his hands but grass in his hair. 

"You look -" she tried, softly, but he didn't seem to be stopping his hurried step. She turned to her office and opened the door for him instead. "You need a drink?" 

"I need a word." He plopped in the first chair he reached without even turning to her. "Or a book. Or - I don't know." He sighed so deeply, Human one dragged the chair from behind her desk next to him to sit closely and rest a hand on his knee. "I need to know something. Anything." For the first time James locked eyes with her; she looked so concerned his heart tightened. "I'm lost."

"I can see you don't know the question but-" she stood up quickly to yank open the curtains behind her. There was a beautiful inner garden James had never seen, since she spent so little time in this room she never even bothered to let it breathe. But most importantly, the light pointed directly at the wall behind her desk, all scribbled in black in a messy handwriting. 

"What have you done- is that ink on your wall?" James couldn't hide his astonishment; from the far it looked like battle plans or a dozen timelines all knitted together and pointing in every direction.

She swiped her hand across a line, erasing it . "Coal. And I did get that reading done. But there was so much." She stood for a while contemplating her masterpiece before turning back to him. "You might not have the question but we might find out the answer. Like the woods!" She added in a chirpy tone. "The woods weren't there because they were called to life. There was something terrible looming over the town when it was nothing more than two or three houses and a lot of mud. The landlord's wife called a monk and offered them the church as long as they kept the evil away. But the woods live off of darkness, feed on corruption; during the night it opens it's jaws and swallows whatever dares staying by dawn." 

James was so dumbfounded he got smacked in the face by the roll she threw at him. "What?" It looked like a letter, rolled and preserved. It spoke of love, and fear, and a demon who threatened them all. It will take our lives in the worst of ways, it took one of our hearts already. He's more dangerous than any sword, any spell. He must be exterminated, for the good of us all. "What is this?" 

"That's what she sent the priest. There are multiple stories of people who ventured into the woods and never came out, of hunters wanting the prestige of bringing back the head of the demon, but vanished completely instead." She shuffled through a number of reports, letters and other time stained papers, letting them fall into the floor around her. "We're historically not very smart."

"Well, that's not nice." He twisted his mouth but his mind was elsewhere, still trying to put two and two together. "Is the forest trying to eat me, then?" 

"I did tell you to stay away. Now," she slammed her hands on the desk to get his attention. "You tell me. Give me anything. I'll know."

James sighed. What could he say? That the man in his dreams was real, so real James still got shivers every time he thought of him, his voice creeping back into his mind, forming words James hadn't heard but somehow knew how they sounded like. That the forest itself allowed them to reunite, kept telling James when to leave. That there now was a heavy weight in chest, like a knot around his heart, that only seemed to loosen when he brought the visitor back into his thoughts. "I don't know. There was a tower? All stairs inside. I couldn't get up."

"Okay, I've got some old road maps around. Just a tower huh?" Human one ducked underneath the desk to slam a wrinkled paper on it afterwards. "I don't know about a tower, but there was a full castle there. Gardens and everything." She showed the map to James who moved his chair closer. It was just a small drawing; the road ended at the gates of the building but the tower wasn't near at all. It seemed to be a lookout post at the back of the fortress, protecting a massive piece of land. "The whole place was annihilated by war; a political issue of some sort but there was so much death that nature just stopped growing. The river there became a swamp filled with corpses and rot." 

"But that's-" James suddenly saw it clear. He praised himself in his ability to understand landmarks and making his own maps if needed. "That's The forest. The whole thing. This piece of the river to the- that's here." But if that was all the domain of an ancient dynasty wiped out by blood, who was his man? Why was he there where everything died? How was he there? "Whose castle was this?" 

"That, uh-" Human one shook her head. "There was a war that we know of. But there are no recollections of said war. Who, why. How can anything do so much damage." James let himself fall back onto his chair and the wooden legs protested under his weight. He sighed audibly; so there was nothing that spoke of the man in his dreams. Just more loose ends. "I'm sorry, James. I wish I could find something else-"

"No. No, don't be." He stood up in a second to hold her shoulders softly. "Listen, you've done enough. Some would say a bit much?" He gestured at the scribbled wall as she chuckled. "I know you put so much effort into this, and I appreciate it. But please, it's enough. If it's all there is, then so be it." He squeezed her arms delicately. "Thank you."

"Are you okay?" Human one asked in a sheepish voice. "Do you promise?"

"I'm fine. In fact, this helped a lot. Thank you." James pulled her in for a hug. 

It was an enlightening day for him; he now knew exactly what to do. Only one person had all the answers he needed.

He had to go back to that tower. 


	5. The  voice inside  my mind

For the first time in a few days James was armed up and ready for action. He was never comfortable with the idea of trophies: the best pelt on his shoulders was bought from a merchant, unlike many hunters who preferred to skin their targets. He took a broadsword with him as a bluff: he wasn't the best swordmaster, but his scythe never left his side anyway. It worked better and faster than a dagger, and could pierce through bone with the right amount of force. The armor felt so familiar around him; he's missed the smell of curated leather, the weight on his shoulders. James has made a habit out of rubbing indigo powder in his hair before marching to battle: some monsters hated the smell of it and it left a bluish hue that made him stand out amongst other hunters. He tied it back in a bun to keep it out of his face and took a deep breath.

This was the night everything would change. He knew it. 

He strutted to the forest showing more confidence than he could actually gather and into the path traced for him. The cat smelled his outfit for a quick second before deciding it was fitting and ran along his feet. The tower cut into the line of the horizon soon enough. James swallowed hard; there was a lump in his throat and he couldn't decide whether it was dread or anticipation.

The gate was still open for him. No one stopped him this time.

He ran up the staircase rapidly, the cat following closely at his heel, but there was no sign of the owner of the building. The upper room looked like a recollection of whatever was mildly salvageable after the raids of the war days. Old furniture in disarrange, scorched at the corners or marked with soot, and a pile of old paintings in a corner covered by tattered pieces of cloth. His eyes focused on a bed suited for kings, unmade, where the cat curled up and stared at the nearby window. The view was magnificent: the patch of green, impenetrable as far as the eye could see, cut a neat line before reaching the town limits. 

It made sense. The forest extended only inside the territory where the ancient castle used to stand. It was conjured that way.

"Oh my." James heard a voice behind him but didn't need to turn to know who it was; the silky smooth tone, inviting in spite of the danger the tower itself reminded him of, has still not left his head. He could recognize that voice anywhere. "But what a surprise- I wasn't expecting you this soon." 

"You were expecting me." The hunting taught James not to give his enemies more room for talking than absolutely necessary; he was a merciful adversary but he was looking for redemption and most monsters weren't interested in it. Most were proud. "But you sent me away last time."

"Oh, it was late then." He chuckled slightly, running a hand absentmindedly through his hair. "You weren't ready then. You were scared."

"I'm not scared." James snapped back way too quickly as he saw the man moving closer to pet the pelt on his shoulder.

"You're ready for war, I see. Did you come to bring the fury of God to my doorstep?" He smiled and the red of his lips made his fangs look so much bigger. James' hand instinctively clutched the handle of his scythe. The man laughed. "Oh I see how it is. Well, I guess I brought this upon myself, didn't I? Inviting a night hunter to my modest realm." The man's hand moved from James' should to delicately touch his hair. "The smell of medicinal flowers always felt right for you, for some reason." He smiled to himself before turning to step away from the hunter. He wasn't scared of showing his back to him, despite the clear battle stance. "I guess there are things that times can't change." He leaned on a commode, the faint trace of a smile still lingering despite being lost in thought. "There are things that just survive anything."

"What's your name and what do you want from me?" James asked sternly but his voice quivered. There was something about his ghost that was terrifying, something utterly different than when he visited in his dreams. It might be his calm demeanor, or maybe the way his skin clashed against the dark of the moonlit room, as if he was born from the moon itself. 

"You can call me Mark; you used to, anyway." The man twirled the tip of his mustache with lazy fingers. 

"I don't remember that." James looked around; there was a trace of homesickness at the back of his mind, as if he could recognize a scent that reminded him of his childhood, but he knew for a fact he never had been in this place before. "I don't remember any of this." 

"Oh your mind might not, but your heart knows exactly where you are." Mark walked closer to put a hand against his chest, slightly running his fingers up to James' neck. "It's been so long, after all, James." He seemed fascinated by the pulsing of James' skin under his cold fingertips, his tongue licking his lips so subtly James had to look away. 

He grabbed Mark's wrist too softly to move him away, lingering on the sensation for longer than he'd like to admit to himself. "How do you know my name?" 

"Oh, James, I know all about you." Mark slid his arm out of James' grasp to take his hand instead, resting it on his own chest. James couldn't sense a heartbeat underneath the thin fabric of his undertunic, but blamed it on the fascination the man awakened in him. He wanted to run, to see his scythe though the man's chest. He wanted to embrace him and let the dust consume him if that was what it took. His mind felt cloudier with every word. "I know what you like and what you don't." Mark slid his arms around James' waist, as he corresponded by letting their foreheads rest against each other. The hunter couldn't look him in the eye for any longer, it was too mesmerizing. He feared he'd forget who he is if he did. 

He feared he'd be fine with forgetting. 

"Why do I keep dreaming about you?" James' voice was only a whisper; he'd have to fight the words out, to hold himself in place and not succumb to the power Mark seemed to have on him.  _ Why can't I stay away? _

"I refuse to let you forget me. I cannot forget you myself." Mark's tone lowered into a soft growl. James could feel it resonating in his ribcage. He put his arms around Mark's neck, a hand running to the back of his hair. He could choke him and take him out so easily if he wanted to. He could have killed him a million ways since he arrived. He never felt like he needed to. He could just ask anything he wanted; Mark wanted to please him. "But you insisted on resting around dens and nests and annoying vermin. I had to look after you." 

"Were you defending me?" James chuckled to relieve the awkward tingling in his gut. He couldn't stop focusing on the way Mark's lips move and for some reason that didn't seem to bother him. 

"Only when you couldn't do it yourself. You're too good for me to interfere; you always were." Mark held James' chin up with two fingers to force him to look into his eyes. That gaze was captivating. "my knight in shining armor, you were always too proud to allow me to aid you." 

"I'll have you anytime before the men I've had to work with." James laughed and Mark bit his lip softly. The fangs glistening in the night lights should have made the gesture look threatening but there was something intimate about the way he moved. Still more like a mirage from a dream than a real living thing. 

"Ah, indeed. You'll have me anytime if you please." He closed the distance between them but something at James' back distracted him. "I'm afraid our time is up. Let me take you home." 

The moment Mark stood back, James longed for his touch again, but what was shadow before was now covered in a dark red hue. It was too close to dawn. "I thought you wanted me to stay." He heard the whine in his voice and regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

"Forever, if I may have you but, alas, I won't be alone." Mark gestured to what looked like an empty wall at first. The orange reflection showed a simple painting in dark tones: a Lord sitting on his chair, a woman at his left and a man to his right. The woman was holding his hand; the man resting his on the Lord's shoulder. Mark didn't find it weird that such a beautiful painting wouldn't make Mark's beauty justice, making him look like a servant behind his master; he couldn't stop staring at the man sitting there, identical to himself down to the blue dye in his hair. 

Why did this painting feel so familiar?

"Simba, be a good boy and take care of the house for me, would you?" The cat started purring at Mark's command. The man laced a finger into the leather straps crossing James' chest and pulled him close to get his attention. "We're gonna go for a ride."


	6. What time  has forgotten

James woke up in his bed with no recollection of how he got there, his armor neatly arranged on a chair near his open window, but he didn't need to know. He could still remember being so close to the man in his dreams he could see himself drown in his dark brown eyes; his hands around James' waist, holding him steady. 

Mark. His name was Mark. James would remember that. Just as he remembered his hands looking for an excuse, an opportunity to touch him at any given time. 

But there was also something else, trying to get through to him from the back of his mind. A painting, and in it a regal looking man holding his closest people around him. A bluish dye in his hair, shaved at the sides, broad shoulders and the posture of a warrior. It was like looking into a mirror, if the mirror could transport him a couple of centuries back in time. And Mark was there with him as well, looking exactly the same; not even his clothes seemed to have changed. 

How odd: there was something about that painting that felt awfully familiar but he could have sworn he's never seen it before, not like that. He could recall a wall of dark wood and beautifully chiseled pillars; the end of a dimly lit hallway in a place that smelled of fresh lumber, but nothing else. 

He decided to head out to the one place he knew held the answers his Church couldn't get. But he'd need a horse. 

"Aren't you on forced vacations, big guy?" James always hated having to go to Elrich but he was the proud owner of the fastest horses in town for no other reason than to brag about them; he was often too drunk to ride anything but a carriage anyways. "What do you need a horse for?"

"Human one sent me to fetch something from the library of the order, the next town over." James lied without skipping a beat. It felt so natural it was scary; he despised having to lie even during hunts. "You're busy; she can't send you guys." He hadn't talked to her today but he knew she had his back.

"Well, then, if it’s a Commander's order.. But you can only take one: were racing the others tonight. The barkeep got a new wine from the peninsula he refuses to sell but he would certainly gamble" Elrich cackled and James had to hide his disgust: his breath smelled of days old booze. "That man has a walnut for a brain. He's so doomed!"

James cut the conversation short the minute he was shown where the horses were tied. He's already dressed and packed; he took a black mare and rode at full gallop across town. The church gates were open wide as always but Human one was busy with a group of hunters. Luckily she didn't get to see him leave; he has no way to explain to her why. No words for what he's experienced the night before. Only too many questions to answer.

* * *

The library was the most exasperating place he had been in a while, and James had just been with the town drunk to borrow his toy; the bar was pretty high as it was. 

James didn't have a rank high enough to access the archives of the order, and no one would even consider helping him. He didn't have a proper motive, after all. He couldn't just tell every stranger who asked he had seen himself in an old painting he could swear he didn't dream of and wanted to know where it came from. He couldn't stop pacing back and forth across the hallways of the public area. 

The library seemed to have been extended throughout the years, room by room, in a seemingly random manner. There was a step or two in between every hall, a different architectural style across the pillars, empty dead corridors that only exhibit frames no one cares about anymore. But James could recognize the decorations of one of those pillars, the steering smell of cut wood coming from the resin coated panels on the walls. He looked around to make sure he was alone and ran across the hall. 

He could see it clearly, adorned by a modest frame: the man that resembled himself so much, holding the hands of a woman.

And no one else. "Where are you?" He murmured to himself, touching the rough canvas where a handsome man should be instead of a dark piece of background. 

"It's funny: no one cares about it anymore." James almost jumped at the soft voice coming from behind him. He didn't even hear the librarian walking towards him. In exchange, she didn't mind him as much as she did that painting. Years had passed for her, still strong in a once tall frame, crooked by time. "They were big at their age, but history decided to forget them; it's easier to rip apart the whole page than to erase the stain on it sometimes." 

"Isn't that against your oath?" James made sure to stay in the shadows of the corridor.

"Well, we still keep the painting, don't we? We don't forget, but people? Ah, people do what they do to survive their part." 

"Is this the only one?" He wanted to talk about the third person in the painting, the one that seemed to have been so roughly erased the whole image felt unbalanced. A huge curtain hung through almost half the canvas, the couple evicted to the other corner. "Have there been more portraits of them?" 

"Oh no, they're the founders of the town over, as you must know. They birthed our Order, before the Church took us under their wing. We weren't praised or honored, we were just-" 

"Night hunters." 

"Yes. Exactly!" The librarian replied happily when she noticed someone else knew about stories humanity has lost. "But no. To answer you, there are not. And judging by the intensity of the pigments-" she ran her hand over the canvas with no hesitation, like one would when sweeping dust off a shelf. "This is not old enough to be an original either. But it's the only thing that survived the war." 

"That means someone must have seen an original to do this at some point. That one should be somewhere." He took a step closer to her to reach out to her shoulder. She looked puzzled, staring at his hand.

"Well, surely, but that must have been easy a hundred years ago or so-" she lifted her gaze at him and all color drained from her face. "Oh, how uncanny. It's like seeing a ghost." 

"Thank you for your time, ma'am." James did a quick bow and dashed rapidly towards the exit. 

The last thing he needed is being hunted by his peers for a damned painting.

* * *

He took shelter in an Inn close to the entrance of the town, where he could see the main road from his window. He made sure the mare was well taken care of before ordering some hearty dinner directly to his room to have the time to shake off his armor. He found himself caressing his pelt the way Mark had done the night before, reminiscing on every touch, every word burned into his mind. He didn't even hear the window opening. 

"I'm impressed you didn't stay with your own." Mark's tone sounded playful, but sweet enough for James not to take offense. He sauntered in so silently James only noticed how close he was when he felt Mark's arms around his waist. 

"They wouldn't take me; I'm not important enough." James turned around, breaking the embrace.

"They know nothing." His visitor responded without skipping a beat, in a bitter tone. 

"I found your painting. They have a replica of it." James tried to make it sound like a catalyst for small talk.

"Oh?"

"You're not on it."

"Oh." Mark's mouth twisted in disapproval. "how rude."

"Wanna tell me about it?" James casually sat on the desk, feigning a disinterest he didn't feel. There's no one who could answer him. No one but the man himself. 

"That painting was hidden in an attic for years. It was shameful: I loved it!" Mark shrugged. "So I took it. They never said a thing. I never noticed there was a second one either." 

"It's bad, too. No sense of harmony at all." James tried to ease his companion's clear discomfort.

"Well, of course it is-" he replied with a whip of his hair. "Doesn't have me in it. Tragic." 

James chuckled despite his efforts not to. He couldn't just lie to him; there was something about him that just felt safe. "Who's they? Who would simply erase you?" 

"The family; I was a threat to them." Mark looked away, smiling an empty smile. Whatever it was, it still cut deep into him. "They did everything they could to hide me, to erase me, but. Well." He reached out to trace the line of James' jaw delicately. "I'm here, ain't I?" 

James covered Mark's hand with his, lingering on the cool sensation against his face. His eyes could only focus on the mute tenderness in Mark's gaze. It was hypnotizing; he couldn't look away, out of fear he would vanish into thin air in a second. 

But then again he had to, as soon as the innkeeper knocked on the door and barged in without waiting for an answer. "Excuse me, we don't have any marital bedrooms." The robust man said in a raspy voice after clearing his throat. "I believe the gentleman hasn't paid for a room." 

"If I pay for another, can we share this one?" Mark asked in a sickly sweet mellow tone before James can stop him.

"He's not staying. Sir, I'm sorry. I'll just have my dinner and go to bed. It's a Hunter's word, sir." He shook off Mark's touch as he got up in a split second. 

The man just left a strong scented plate of stew on the desk while muttering to himself on his way out. "Hunter's word my ass. What good are hunters if they only drink my wine and don't pay their bills?"

"I'm sorry!" He shouted, but the door was already closed. 

"Well. I better leave before I get you into more trouble, I guess." Mark chuckled and for once, he looked really amused. "What do you think: foot of the tower, sundown, dinner?" He offered with a wink before adding. "You're providing dinner. I always come to you, it's only fair." He finished his sentence with a pout and James couldn't help but laugh at how adorable it made him look.

"Sounds like a plan. Tomorrow at sundown it is." He added while testing his own dinner. A bit on the bland side but he wasn't willing to complain.

"Oh it's not a plan." Mark said as he moved towards the window, one foot on the ledge. "It's a date." He blew a kiss at the startled hunter before jumping off and dispersing into the night.

For some reason the next spoonful of stew tasted so much better.


	7. Monsters

James woke up with more energy than he remembered having in a long time. He got dressed in a second and preferred to fetch his horse instead of staying for breakfast. The dinner was evidence enough of the quality of their cooking; he'd rather go home to prepare himself a nice meal. He had to plan dinner too, after all. 

The mare seemed to notice his eagerness to go back home, galloping at full speed. James didn't even bother to call his colleague: he pat his ride goodbye and left her tied up at the front of Elrich's home. Someone would come for her son enough; there's plenty of people caring for the horses at all times.

The day moved fast in between failed planning and open fires. He had learned to fend for himself exclusively during hunts: he could either order food or cook on a campfire, and nothing else. However, he managed to make a batch of homemade bread he was especially proud of, along with some curated meats, fresh fruit and wine. Mark mentioned a date: dates needed to have wine, right? 

He spent the entire morning casually peeking at the line of greenery at the edge town, waiting for the moment it would let him come through. He wanted to make the best out of the short time he had with Mark. That's why, when he heard the crack of the trees he rushed home to prepare his luggage and leave as fast as he could. No armor, no scythe: only his pelts and a feast for two carefully prepared. 

Simba waited to take him to the tower, staring at him from time to time. He was a cat after all: he must've noticed the smell coming from his bag. Just as promised, at the foot of the tower was Mark waiting for him, but instead of inviting James in, he turned to walk past the tower and into a clearing in the woods, where little white flowers danced in the delicate breeze. James was in awe.

"I didn't even know this was here, I-" he stopped to embrace the view and his breath got caught in his throat: the moonlight reflecting on the petals made them look like fireflies, shaken by a sudden wind, smelling of freshly cut grass. He looked at the flowers he had gathered, how simple they felt in comparison to a whole field. "I've never seen this before."

"You didn't have the chance, so I decided to give it to you. But you had a different idea, I see." Mark gestured at the bouquet in his hand as he shyly offered it. "Do you know what these mean, James?" He said, sniffing the gift.

"Not really." James chose a spot underneath the moonlight, where he could see his companion better, and stretched his pelt on the grass. He offered his hand out. "I know medicinal herbs, not really flowers. "

Mark shrugged before taking his hand. "Me neither, but I know what I'd like them to say." He chuckled before sitting down. 

James set the dinner up in front of them on the fur and opened a bottle of wine; his date didn't seem as interested in the meal as he was in him. Mark's eyes hardly ever left him, starting at him so sweetly James had to avert his eyes every now and again. "There are things we need to talk about." He'd like to have the power of subtlety but he was never much of a smooth talker. And in any case, no skill could fight the presence of the man in his dreams right beside him, in the very flesh; no amount of training could fight against the thought that he was very real, and so very close. 

"Indeed." Mark replied absentmindedly before letting out a nervous giggle. "I guess it's time."

"Are you okay?" James reached out to grab his hand but it took him a while to react, lost in thoughts.

"I haven't been this scared in a while." He finally let out. "But it's you. I know it's worth it." 

He shook his head to clear his mind and his eyes focused on the cat, rolling on his back and play hunting flowers in the distance. "There was this boy, the son of a knight, on the training grounds. I used to take a stroll around to see the fights and he was breathtaking: born with a sword in his hands. He was also very conscious of our status but would still allow me to join his nightly walks by the riverbed. Completely on our own in the dark. When I got control of my own property I decided to make him a Lord, giving him the lands that stretched to the shore."

"Hold on." James was so focused on the story it took him a second to realize." You mean the town. You have him an entire town." 

"I gave him an empty valley. It's not like I was using it anyway.” Mark shrugged, averting his gaze. "I thought it was a nice gift; you said I was trying to buy you. That's not nice." 

James got startled by the sudden change in the story. It wasn't a distant  _ him  _ anymore. "Well-" he started, making sure he had Mark's attention, "it sounds like  _ he _ might have seen it as you trying to get him up to your level to force a comfort he didn't feel." He tried to keep his tone as understanding as he could but Mark clicked his tongue, without even turning to him.

He smiled, shaking his head slowly as if he knew something James didn't. " _ He- _ " it sounded so sarcastic from his mouth. "didn't like the way people looked at us. At me, mostly, but he stayed." He sighed. "When people questioned me, he stayed. When people hated me, he stayed. When they wanted me gone he defended my rights, but-" 

He took a deep breath, blinking rapidly. James couldn't see his face, not completely, but he knew by the stiffness in his shoulders, the careful pace in his breaths, he was fighting back tears. "something happened.  _ Someone  _ happened. And I was suddenly too much to handle." He licked his dry lips, letting his tongue rest in between his teeth while staring at the flowers in front of him. Words were escaping him: James knew the feeling. "Too much of a hassle: he needed someone to settle down with. He had her already by then; what a fucking coincidence." His fangs glistened in the moonlight when he pressed his teeth together so hard his voice turned into a low growl. 

He looked up. The moon was right above them, magnificent and full, so unaware of their stories. So pure. He chuckled.

"It's just not fair." He paused to muffle a sob. "You had a beautiful, happy life and I'm glad you did. You loved them and they loved you. But I still hated them." He turned towards James with a smile that was closer to a dog baring its teeth. "Because they had you and I couldn't. They put me behind this thing and you asked me- you told me to stay. 'another lifetime' you said. 'wait for me'. And I did." Mark finally gave in and rubbed away his tears, taking a moment to catch his breath. "I gave everything for you, to wait for you. And you finally came back."

"What did you do?"

"And you don't remember me." Mark stopped himself from making any sound, but his lip started trembling. He finally couldn't stop himself. "It's just not fair."

"This is not me. You don't want me. You- i don't know what you want." James was struggling between the urge to comfort him and the anger that bubbled up in him knowing that the man that came to sit in his bed for nights on end was there for some other person that just happened to look like him. Someone who hurt him. And yet, Mark was willing to let that guy do it again. He stood up quickly, running his shaking fingers through his hair forcefully. His fingertips now stained with blue. Mark recognized the indigo: the guy wore it too. "Why me? This is not me. He's dead. You need to understand he's dead." 

"You promised. You cannot do this to me." Mark was lost in his own loop, he took the knuckle of his finger in his mouth to stop a whimper; James could see how he ripped white flesh right off the bone only for it to grow back in place and seal itself without even a faint trace of blood. What was he? He got up to go to James but the hunter was determined to keep their distance. "I gave up so much, i-" 

"What did you do?" James' tone was cold and calculated now, his hand on a belt holding no blades. If Mark were to attack he could do next to nothing. 

"What did  _ I _ do?" Mark laughed and it sounded like thunder, the breeze turning into a violent fit of wind enveloping them. "I gave you my life! I gave up everything for you! I gave up my humanity just to wait for you, and I can see you face to face, finally, and there's no recognition behind your eyes." He sobbed before his voice grew softer. "You can't remember a thing. I'm nothing to you." 

"What you did was give into darkness. That's not love." James kept his voice monotone despite his right hand desperately clutching at his side having found no weapon, knuckles white. He was bewitched. It was all a trick. He found a demon and walked straight into its trap.

How could he have been so naive? "Love is understanding. This is- this is insane."

"Am I insane, James? Well, maybe." Mark's face was twisted by anger and hurt but he still smiled with that charm that was natural in him. "I've been hiding in these woods just waiting for a bastard who left me for the first bitch that looked his way." He laughed and James took a step back. "You think this kindergarten level hex can stop me? That I cannot leave this shitty forest? I can do anything I want!" He threw his hands in the air and branches around them started cracking as if a storm was about to fall. He was manic. "I could have seen the world, I could have conquered more land than I could ever dream of having. I could gut you like a fish before you notice me close to you." He laughed and it sounded like a whine. "But I stayed. For centuries I stayed."

"I thought differently of you, but you're gone." James shook his head without breaking eye contact; he feared Mark would try to pounce on him, hurt him. This was not the same man he waited for every night. This was the product of a nightmare. "There's nothing but hate in you. You're a monster." The moment the word left his lips he knew there was no turning back. He was a hunter: he had a duty. Mark's face twisted in disgust. 

"How dare you." He hissed. "You made me. You robbed me from my life. You're the real monster here." 

James kept walking backwards as he approached him. Neither of them dared closing the distance. "I don't care who you think I am, I owe you nothing. " It took him all of his strength to command him, as firmly as he could despite his knees trembling. "stay away from me!"

"You'll be back." Mark laughed as James finally ran off, the otherworldly voice following him like an echo. "You can't stay away from me. You need me!"

James didn't even notice the tears running down his face until he was safely out of the woods, his whole body trembling as if he just survived an earthquake. 

He broke down onto his knees, bawling like a child. 


	8. Blood for  Blood

James spent the whole day in bed, secure underneath his covers. The world just turned increasingly darker and he had no strength to cope. He stuck the broadsword across the window panels to make sure they couldn't be opened as soon as he got home, leaving his scythe by his bedside. 

He didn't have any appetite, any intentions of seeing people around him being oblivious. Happy. He could send someone to fetch Human one but then he'd have to admit she was right. And that meant he wasted an absurd amount of time and effort in a delusion he so needed to be true. How pathetic of him. By the time the sun was down, he could hear something at his front door, first  soft knocking, growing progressively harder and turning into banging .

He ran to the door, scythe in hand, and took a second to shake the sleep off his eyes. Mark has never used a door but he just couldn't be sure. The yelling at the other side startled him.

"James! Are you there?" Human one might be small but her voice could muffle the sound of the scythe falling onto the ground. She stopped for a second, maybe to breathe or maybe because she heard the thud. "James, you need to open this door right now, or I'll smash it open!"

"I'm here! Stop, I'm here." He swung the door open and Human one hugged him tight: he did n’t react. She reached for his hand holding the door while pushing him back.

"In. I need to know."

She sat him down on a chair before closing and locking the door. "I got complaints last night. Someone sounded drunk and hurt. I heard it too." She moved a chair away so she could kneel in front of him, letting her hand rest on his knees. "What happened?"

"I- I don't know." He sheepishly ran his fingertips along the back of her hand; she held his. It felt a little less lonely. "I was wrong. So wrong."

"James, it's been years. I've never heard you like that before." She kept her tone soft and steady but James' lip started quivering. His eyes were still sore from last night; he didn't want to cry again. 

"I thought-" he started and his voice broke. "I thought it was a real thing, it  _ felt so real _ . As if we've known each other since forever. I trusted him completely." 

"You're too good for his kind, I told you. You cannot be this soft with beasts-" she reached to caress his face but the memories made her touch feel dead and cold; he jolted back in his chair. 

It took him a few breaths to find his voice again, even if it trembled. "He wanted someone else. He wasn't looking for me, it was never me. It was just, just-" he sobbed and hoped the darkness would hide the tears. Human one always knew exactly what she needed to know anyways: there was no real place to hide. "I was the canvas he decided to paint his broken dream on. I refuse to be anything less than myself, for anyone." 

"Oh, James honey." She cradled his hand, petting it slowly. "You can't allow anyone to treat you like that, no matter how charming or beautiful. You're so much more than someone else's view of you." 

"I know that, but he was-" he took a deep breath to stop himself from sobbing. "He was so convincing, so intimate. I thought-" his voice failed him; he took a moment to recover. "He said he knew me and I believed him, but it wasn't me. And it wasn't love: it was something else." He pulled his hands out of her grasp to rub the tears off his face. "Something rotten."

"Demons do this to you. It's not your fault." Human one tried but he wouldn't listen.

"I let him get to me. It was so evident, so simple." James' tone was faltering, turning into a wail. 

"It was nothing you could fight against." She replied firmly. "This is on him, not you."

A moment passed, only his quiet whimpering could be heard. "I want to go back." James finally managed to let out in between sobs. "I need to go back."

"I don't think that's smart-" she replied but he held her hands a bit too forcefully, making her stop in her tracks.

"Give me a target or I'll go for him. And I don't know if I'll ever be the same after that." 

That night the forest went silent. That night no one called at his window.

* * *

"Well, this is close enough." James stared at the card in his hand. Shapeshifter suspicion, in a village just a few miles away. If he did it right he could be back the next morning. Shapeshifters tend to brag, and change form constantly; more often than not the neighbors will tell on each other. They also ditch their previous form like a snake loses its skin: the residue rots pretty quickly under the sunlight. He could always count on nosy neighbors complaining about the smell. 

He got ready and rode to the village; it was only a couple of hours until he saw the first buildings looming closer. The village looked fancy, covered in big properties and carefully drawn gardens. James didn't expect that but it wasn't that odd. Rich people seemed to be so unaware of their surroundings they might not have noticed. 

He found an Inn where he could leave his horse to be cared for. They offered space on the stables for it but if James wanted a bed he'd have to pay, badge or not. He had to find his target quickly or else he'd be sleeping on filthy hay. 

The property owners were not only unhelpful but also looked disdainfully at him when he introduced himself as a hunter. Some lady even said that  _ that's a filthy job _ . He wasn't in his best shape and patience was thin so he decided to try a different approach.

He found a pattern quick enough. The cooks and maids indicated to him that the tunnels underneath the town were getting louder at night, spitting out a foul stench. The tunnels led to the same river that went through James' hometown, and were used to dump the village's waste. He'd just had to wait by the mouth of the tunnel until the creature appeared to shed its skin, knee deep in filth. 

He's been around death and rot before. He's had worse. 

He leaned on the tunnel wall to watch the sun caress the still water: it was his only contact with the outside world. The sound of the river helped to calm his busy mind. His thoughts kept going back to the man who came to him in the night, who James couldn't trust in anymore. How much of it all could have been a ruse to get him? How much was actually real?

He closed his first around his scythe so right this hand started trembling; not even the river could fill up this empty hole he felt in his chest. It was all Mark's fault: it was his idea, he had tricked James into believing he was trustworthy, he was kind, he was someone he knew since forever. Only to feed his own sick obsession. James heard a noise and his scythe swinged to whack the figure suddenly running towards the opening of the tunnel. It was a chubby, middle aged man, now sitting in the muddy water and trying to understand what just happened.

"What is your quarrel with this town?" James didn't feel merciful: letting beasts go is what brought him to his situation in the first place. If someone would have dealt with his demon before-

"Please don't!" The man didn't even try to get up, instead lifting up his hands. "I'm just surviving, just like you would-"

"Don't compare your kind to me." James snapped. He heard that before, one too many times.  _ You're the real monster here _ . Mark's voice seemed to burn the words into his skin; they echoed from the back of his mind where he couldn't shut them up. "You've killed."

"I came for her. I just wanted to see her again." The man started whimpering loudly, rubbing snot off his face with a dirty hand. "You understand, right? She needs me, and I had to come see her."

"You tricked her." James banged the scythe against the wall in order to drown the beast's words under the noise. "You lied and killed for that lie. You're a monster-"

"And you're much better?" The man replied in a high pitched whimper. "Because you got a badge? In any case, what a glorified murderer you are, deciding who lives and who dies! Deciding if I love enough? You don't know what love is!" He pointed an accusatory finger at James. "Wanna see a real monster? I've got one right in front of me." 

He snapped. James noticed how much time had passed when he was on his horse again, leaving town. The reins were bloodstained from his unwashed hands.

He snapped. The scythe had cut clean through the beast's neck and James could not see a thing, nor hear at all. Even the smell of the sewer water seemed oddly far away. He had walked right to the inn, took his horse and left without acknowledging any of the neighbor's calling after him.

The road home was silent, dull, grey. He could only feel the warm stickiness of the filth on his palms. He was going home but he suddenly couldn't remember what home meant. What it felt like.

He couldn't remember who he was supposed to be.

_ You're the real monster here. _


	9. The  point of no return

He felt numb. It was like the wind as he rode back home had ripped his heart clean off his chest, taking shelter in the empty cavity. James moved like a puppet. Go back, leave the horse, report on the mission done, get a new one. 

There was nothing else for him. 

James expected to find Human one alone amongst her nest of cards and documents but instead the Church brought with it a dreadful sight. There were very few times James had seen something like this, a line of hunters in full armor, awaiting orders. They used to hunt in small groups but this was an army. Human one's demeanor morphed from the face of a warrior to that of a concerned parent the second she saw him standing in the doorway. James swallowed hard; something at the back of his mind kept repeating he did this. Somehow he made this happen. Just as his father's death on the job made it happen the last time. 

"James, please wait outside, I'll get to you in a second." Human one walked over to him but she couldn't stop him from meeting her halfway. 

"What's all this about?" He looked around to his peers who kept looking forward like good soldiers. They're never this well behaved. "Are you leaving me out of this? You need the muscle." 

"I need you for something else." She reasoned, "please follow me outside." 

James allowed her to guide him to the doorway, but could feel Elrich's eyes fixed on him. "What's this about?" He repeated the second they were out of the building.

"It's big, yes, but I need you to go back to the Order's library. I need you to fetch me something-" she explained but he wasn't willing to be left behind.

"No. What? No way." He realized he was being loud enough to startle the hunters still waiting for them but couldn't care enough to lower his voice. "I'm not your dog, I'm a hunter; I should be with the hunters!" 

"James, calm down." She scolds him softly. The whole church was listening now. "you're in no state to do this right now; I need you where you can be useful."

"No, don't you dare pull me out of the field. You need me there. I need to be there!" The yelling made Elrich finally approach them, dropping a heavy hand on James' shoulder.

"Hey big guy, are you okay? I didn't think you actually had a grown up voice." He tried to be friendly but it sounded like mockery. James didn't lose his temper, ever. 

"What are we doing today, Elrich?" The guy was too trusting to ask his Commander before divulging information, even when he's been punished for that before. He behaved like a giant child: talk to him nicely and he'd share his candy. 

"Big one tonight: there's an identified target inside the forest but we can only hunt at night and in packs to cut our losses. It has to be quick so we need all the troops we can get. Is he in, Commander?" Elrich disregarded every sign from her to stop until the end of his sentence. She could only sigh.

They're getting him. She made Mark a target. The whole organization was armed and ready to get the demon's head. James should be glad; Mark needed to be exterminated. He needed to be there to see it happen. 

"Commander, please take me with you." James kept his voice polite and monotone but he knew Human one could hear it quivering. "I'm available, and I pledged my life to the Order. It is my duty." 

Human one paused. The air was tense between them; there was no way she could stop him without outing who the target was, and if she did he definitely wouldn't step back. "Fine." She sighed, finally. "Get ready, we leave at sunset." 

It was what he wanted. To witness Mark facing the end he deserves as an entity of darkness. As the monster that he is. It was what needed to be done.

Wasn't it?

* * *

James was in full armor at the edge of the forest. It felt like a deja vu but instead of the devilish cat he's got a troop at his sides eager to kill. He tightened the grip on his scythe. 

"Are you ready?" Human one riled up the troops and got a warcry in response.. He was fidgety, too tensed up to manage a single sound. Her gaze shifted his way every now and then: she was checking on him. She knew he wanted to run. 

"Remember: at the first light of dawn we ride back. No one stays behind, no one separates from the group. We're not venturing looking for anyone. Take care of your siblings in arms. Now." She grabbed her spear and lifted it over her head. "Charge!" 

The woods creak under the footsteps of dozens of men, trying to move straight forward in a maze of tight knit branches and tall weeds. It was like the forest itself was rejecting them.

James could not move from his place. The idea of walking into the woods again frightened him more than any battle. He couldn't face his demon yet. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A meow brought him back to reality. 

Simba was waiting for him. Simba was waiting for him? The cat called for him again and despite the dread, he found the strength to take a step forward. The greenery at his right uncovered an alternate pathway; the forest was calling for him to move forward. The forest wanted him. 

James was the only one who could make this right.

He followed the cat to a new road snaking through the trees that led to what looked like the rest of a carnage: rotten carcasses and clean white bones glistened under the moonlight, half buried in the moss. The forest seemed to have been digesting the remains of whatever those beasts were before. From the makeshift cemetery James could see the gate to the tower; they were supposed to surround the building but still his peers were nowhere to be found. The trees must have been slowing them down. 

This is a job for him alone, after all. 

He took a deep breath, ready to call Mark's name, but a voice behind him startled him enough for him to swing his scythe. "Told you you would be coming back." Mark didn't bother dodging; he stopped the blade with his bare hand, without shedding a single drop of blood. "With friends. I wasn't expecting that." He sounded annoyed. 

He looked almost like a different person; without the faintest trace of a smile, a low growl vibrating into his words. James remembered that sparkle in his eyes, he saw it the last time they met. "I came here to stop you." He said sternly and swallowed hard; his voice felt like it could break at any moment.

"Stop me from doing what?" Mark smirked, his fangs sparkling bright under the moonlight. "Feed off your dear friends?" 

"I don't need them, I can deal with you myself." James got ready to fight but Mark just sighed, putting his hands behind his back.

"Then do." He stretched out his arms to his sides, inviting James to charge at him. "Show me how much you hate me: I dare you." 

James swinged his scythe and Mark jumped back to dodge it, stopping the blade with his arm. It left a deep dent in his arm but he didn't seem to bleed. 

"What are you?" James' mind kept replaying the dreams in his head, the way Mark's fingertips felt dead and cold against his skin or how he always seemed to appear out of nowhere. How his skin was so pale his form clashed against the shadows of the forest. How his voice penetrated his skull like a dagger, imprinting itself into James' mind. How could he not notice before: he's a  predator .

"I'm the idiot who believed you." Mark dodged the weapon only to get closer to James. "I'm the one who gave up everything for you." He ducked down as the scythe came back and stepped away. 

"All of this was your choice." James slammed his blade down and Mark took refuge behind him, resting a hand on his back. He had the chance but he wasn't fighting back. Mark was merely defending himself. James dropped the weapon, turning quickly to grab Mark by his wrist before shooting his other hand up to his throat. "What do you want from me?" Mark smiled and said nothing so he pushed him against the trunk of a tree, tightening his grip.

"Pick up your blade," Mark said softly, merely inches away from his face. "I haven't taken a breath in way too long. You'll need it."

"They'll come to get you." For some reason James couldn't find the strength to take his broadsword from his back. He took Mark's wrists in his hand and  held them over Mark's head  without losing the grip on his neck. "I know they will."

"You can do it yourself , big boy . You don't need them. I know I don't." The demon kept taunting him but his mind felt clouded. He needed him dead. Did he want him dead? He had a duty to fulfill. It was bigger than him. It was bigger than Mark.

Was it worth it?

"Why aren't you fighting back? You're better than this." James finally snapped. 

Mark  had made absolutely no effort to break free up until now, when James yelled at him . Yet he kept his calm demeanor even after easily wiggling his hands free only to let them fall to his sides. "My life is yours." He said simply. "It always was." 

James pressed harder into Mark's throat. It could only shut him up but it gave him a minute to try and get his thoughts straight. Monsters need to be exterminated. But monsters don't ask to die. Not like this. Not so sweetly. 

Monsters don't make him feel sinful for his actions. His duty is a sacred one. Taking Mark's life was filthy. Treacherous. 

Wrong.

"Go back in." He finally let go to walk to the tower; maybe they could defend it until the sun rises. But what then? 

"You know, I could just take your own dear weapon and take you out. Cut you open for my cat to feast on you. Make sure you remain alive until he's done." Mark said in a  sultry voice behind his back but James felt no fear. 

"You won't." He cracked the gate open. "You could have and you didn't." He lifted his gaze towards the steps only to find Mark in his way, pushing him against the metal bars. 

"Go back." His tone was almost desperate. "Now or never." He talked in a hurry, as if a mortal danger was coming for them. "You think they'll let you go back? That they won't know?" He softly lifted his chin up with his fingers. "This is treason, you'll be executed."

"You will too." James speaks without realizing. He paused for a moment. He had a fulfilling life, he had honour, he had a long old tradition he took pride in. He was throwing it all away for a dream that quickly turned into a nightmare. He didn't hesitate. "Get in, they'll get here in any minute."

He pushed Mark out of the way, not giving him a second to protest by grabbing him by the waist to lead him up the stairs. He had always tried to keep his distance but right now he needed to know his companion was safe. No matter what would come for him in the future. 

This was more important than duty. Suddenly the Order looked so insignificant. 

James didn't regret a thing. 


	10. The lives we sacrificed

James couldn‘t stop peering out of the top window. He could sense Mark at his back, leaning against the wall, just watching him. 

“You can leave if you want. I won’t stop you.” Mark said almost to himself; the wind crashing against the stone tower was louder than him but James was way too wary of every stray sound. “You should.” He tried, louder. “This is not your place.”

“I heard that one before.” James smiled. That day felt like ages ago. “You sent me away.”

“I should do that again.'' Mark replied quickly. “Before they know.”

A cold chill ran down James‘ back. He was a good fighter, but not that good. He had the whole Order to face. And Human one. 

She’d be so disappointed. But he couldn’t let Mark die. Something inside begged him to protect the demon behind him. Something he still didn’t understand. “We need a plan.” He turned to Mark but he just shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I have a plan.” He said simply. ”Let the forest deal with them.” 

James stared at him, incredulous. He, a centuries old beast, hidden from the world due to his bloodthirst, wasn't capable of going into the battlefield himself. “You’re a coward.” The words left his mouth before he could hold them back. 

“I’m clever.” Mark replied, unfazed. “Why would I jump into an unnecessary battle? Of course, I could. If that’s what you want.” his voice turned into that sickly sweet tone that still makes James’ skin crawl. “I can go find him, that-'' he cut the distance between them but James didn't make a move, it was like the words were glueing him to the ground. “That brute that calls you names, that is always waiting for you to show some trace of mercy.” he runs a hand along James’ shoulder. “You know he has it coming for him.”

“No.” James finally found the strength to make his body react and turned quickly to  throw Mark onto the bed. “You won’t touch them. You won’t get close to them. You won’t even look at them.” He said in a sudden fit of rage; he still didn't know exactly what Mark could do but he wasn’t willing to use his comrades as bait. 

“Oh.” Mark sat halfway up slowly, letting his  tongue run along the edge of his sharp teeth . 

“I hit a nerve, didn't I?” He chuckled, looking away. “I won’t. The forest will deal with them. It doesn’t like armies anyway.”

James snorted and focused back on the woods: he couldn’t even see the foliage moving. It looked like a painting. Where was everyone? How was everyone? “What does that even mean?” 

“It’s gonna push them out, if it even let them get in in the first place.” He shrugged. “Those who get lost will be directed to the feeding grounds, as everything is.”

“What happens there?” He sat down on the windowsill: if the forest didn’t want to, James could never see what was going on. Mark was following its will, that must be how he survived out of the Order’s eye for so long. 

“Exactly what it sounds like what happens there, honey .” Mark just smirked at him. “I’m not that creative with names.”

“So that’s what you do? Wait until the woods kill your prey to feed on them?” He tested his ground; Mark was somehow more talkative tonight and it could be the only chance James got to get the answers he needed.

“Oh no.” Mark’s mouth twisted in disgust. “I like my dinner very much alive. When I get to it, at least.” He paused for a second, sitting up on the bed to cross his legs underneath him. “Do you know what still blood tastes like? It’s like old rotten fruit. It might do something but it’s not gonna be a good thing.”

“Blood?” James replied quickly. Suddenly every piece of the puzzle seemed to fit. He was so mesmerized by Mark’s demeanor he must have missed it before: the cold touch, the bloodless veins, the paintings. “Are you a vampire?”   
“Oh. Oh my. You didn’t know ?” Mark laughed and it must be the first time James heard him laugh. He knew he was being mocked but somehow seeing his companion with his guard down, actually approachable, lifted the tension. “You weren’t the quickest one in your class, were you?” 

“That’s not very nice.” James found himself scolding the supernatural entity all of the sudden. The scene was uncanny. He bursted out laughing. “I can’t believe I have to tell a vampire how to behave.” 

“Oh, I’d love to see you try.” Mark answered with a sweet mellow tone. He licked his lips and James’ throat went dry. “It’ll have to be some other time though, I’m afraid the sun is coming up.” 

“Are they safe already?” James asked to himself: the walls reflected the amber tint of dawn as Mark moved swiftly towards the door.

“Simba, be a dear and check the feeding grounds.” He spoke softly to the shadows and a low raspy meow responded. “If you go back they'll judge you, they’ll find you a traitor. You’ll be executed.”    
James had been so lost in what felt like an intimate conversation, he forgot he was a runaway. He couldn’t go back home. He didn’t even know if he could leave the forest ever again. He hadn't thought it through: he just needed Mark to be safe. He suddenly felt the exhaustion of the previous hunt aching in his bones; even if he could, he was in no shape to face court. Or even his Commander.    
Human one would be so upset with him.

“What now?” He said in a whisper. The forest was deadly, the town was out of bounds and there was no other way out, not that he knew of. What else was there for him?

“Now you rest, you _ mere mortals _ need to.” Mark mocked him sweetly. “Please take the bed, I have to join Simba.” James looked at the silky sheets reflecting the light of sunrise. He really needed to sleep and it looked so very comfortable and inviting. But it was Mark’s. He could hear the demon chuckle behind his back. “It’s okay. I won’t join you if you don't want me to. I never have.” He added before leaving the room. “I know you will, one day . I can be patient .”

The exhaustion growing in James’ body, like an infection, became stronger than common sense. Anything would work as long as he got the chance to sleep. He threw the heavy velvety curtains closed and slowly took off his armor, letting it fall carelessly to the floor . 

There was always tomorrow until there wasn’t. He could only hope this wasn’t his last dawn.

* * *

  
  


To his surprise, James woke up alone. Sure, Mark had promised but what value did the word of a vampire have? He stretched and his stomach started rumbling. He didn’t think of that. He was the only human in an enchanted forest: what was he supposed to eat? 

He let his feet rest softly on the tattered carpet and Simba immediately ran up to him to rub against his ankles. The cat cried loudly, encouraging James to follow, so he quickly threw his pelt over his shoulders and hurried after him. 

He almost tripped on something on his way down; the tower had no windows and James counted only on the figments of light leaking through the stone bricks. But the moment he tried to touch the lump at the edge of the stairs it stirred, letting out a subtle yawn. 

“Mark?” He asked quietly and the vampire lifted his head, rubbing his eyes only to lay against the wall again. It couldn’t be comfortable to rest huddled up on the edge of the staircase, even for him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I told you I’d wait.” Mark replied without turning to him, hugging himself tighter. The deep sleepy tone on his voice made James forget about Simba altogether. 

“Oh no, you’re going to bed.” James covered him with the pelt and took him in his arms, carrying him back up the stairs. 

“You don’t have to.” Mark whined but still  nuzzled James’ chest as he was being put down on the bed and tucked in. He paused to stare at his guest for a moment before sleep defeated him. “I’m fine.” He still complained like a child against his pillow. 

James reached out to run his hand through Mark‘s hair before he realized what he was doing; luckily he didn‘t even wince. The hunter left in a hurry just in case; having Mark sleeping in his arms was something so strange to him, he still felt his fingertips tingling under the weight of his body. 

He ran out the gate forgetting completely about the deadly woods and was met with an otherworldly view: the sun shone bright on pale flowers popping around the weeds. The debris from the building was almost entirely covered in moss and speckered with butterflies; James could see a form against the stonewall, brown and red mixed up behind the green. Simba stood by it and meowed insistently. 

Before him laid a deer, neck snapped and slashed open. He could see the throat hanging out clearly but there wasn’t a single drop of blood other than those slightly tinting its fur. At its side was a neatly organized pile of firewood. 

They hunted for him. “Hey kitty, did you do this for me?” He asked softly and Simba responded purring back. “Good kitty.” he petted the wild long ginger fur, earning a loud purr. 

Mark had left the night before to go after his cat, to make sure James would have something to eat in the morning. Despite everything, Mark would keep on silently watching over him, even when it meant walking under the sunlight, even if it meant facing an entire army. Even if it meant sleeping on a flight of stairs for a silly promise. 

James felt like he hadn‘t smiled so honestly in ages. 


	11. A moonlit silver lining

ames took his time to prepare himself a meal under the midday sun, share it with Simba and take a stroll to where the woods meet a slim branch of the town river. The roots dug so deep into the water it seemed like the river spurted directly from the tree trunks. He got the chance to take a dip in the clear quiet stream, the foliage hiding any sound from the outside world. He could understand why someone would stay in a place like this. It was lonely and fed on blood but still, somehow, so peaceful. 

By the time he decided to go back to the tower the sun was threatening to go down; he had leftovers from the day's hunt to snack on and a clear source of water to drink from by dinner time. He needed to check on Mark.

"You're back." Mark heard him getting into the room; he sat up on the bed, rubbing the slumber off his eyes. "Come cuddle?" 

"Are you planning on getting up?" James disregarded the little whine in response, taking his place by the windowsill. His eyes weren't as used to the dark as Mark's were and he needed the moonlight to guide him. Mark walked to him to scent the air in between them.

"You took a bath without me. How rude." He pouted.

"I saw the breakfast you left for me." James replied quickly. "That was very considerate of you." He could see the twinkle of his fangs under the dim light. "Thank you."

"Did you have a nice one?" Mark sweetened his voice, trying to comb his hair with his fingers. 

"And lunch, and dinner. And probably some leftovers tomorrow as well-" 

"Oh no. Nothing lasts that long here." He shook his head slowly. His hair was still a mess and James was tempted to fix it himself. How the hell did he look so well put together when he visited his bedroom? "Whatever stays at the other side of the tower gets consumed at dawn. And frankly, Simba is a big one, he doesn't need much aid from the forest either." As soon as he finished the sentence the cat meowed in retaliation, leaving the room with an offended huff. 

"What is Simba, if I may ask?" James asked absentmindedly, his eyes focused on Mark's unsuccessful attempt of a hairdo.

"My familiar?" Mark replied while undoing knots with his fingers. It was slightly unnerving, like watching a child doing something wrong on purpose. "Found him near the tower. He was too weak to avoid the forest's hunger and I could use some company. He's cranky but he's mostly fine." He looked at the doorway, as if he could see what the cat was doing. James followed his line of vision without thinking.

"So does he feed on the prey you bring?" His mind goes back to the deer. His throat looked slashed open by claws or teeth too big for a cat, even when Simba was massive; there was no trace of blood in its flesh. 

"Well, no, he hunts usually. We just found a big one last night, and he needed help. Luckily for you." Mark added with a smile that glistened under the moonlight. 

"So you live off of what? Vermin?" James was dumfounded. Was the big bad in the woods actually some sort of pacifist? It sounded weird to him after he offered to gut his peers and fed them to his pet. 

"Rats, squirrels, whatever." Mark shrugged, finally giving up. "I'll be right back: you need some light. I can see you squinting." 

James turned towards the landscape below. When his father read him stories about fair folk and witches his childish mind pictured a place like this: evergreen and ethereal, holding deep dark secrets at its heart. A tower lost in an impenetrable forest. It must be lonely, even with a cat. On his own for centuries. He couldn't do that; James couldn't bear watching everyone he ever loved die. 

His mind went immediately to Human one. Has he been left for dead already? She'd always trust his strength but she was scared to death of the forest. And even then she stepped into it in order to kill who was hurting James. He would miss her. He'd miss his life but he'd miss her specially out of everyone. He couldn't find a way to get back. 

James saw the spark of a flame out of the corner of his eyes: Mark had come back with a torch and placed it on a holder next to the painting. They were so close James could smell the scent of the stream on him. 

"Good morning, then." He chuckled and Mark turned to him, leaning on the wall next to him with a cocky smirk. The thin fabric of his shirt cling onto him, almost transparent due to the bath. James couldn't look away; his mouth felt suddenly dry.

"Evening." Mark said simply, brushing James' wet hair away from his eyes. The fire made his guest’s blue gaze even brighter, gawking at the sight that was the demon fully focused on how the skin reacted to the touch. His fingers linger on James' beard, tracing the line of his jaw; he licked his lips slowly, hungrily, before pulling away. He still took a moment to gather his thoughts but couldn't. "I'm at a loss for words around you. I just." He looked away, shyly.

"I'm sorry, but I have to." James broke free from the spell to run his hands through Mark's hair, keeping it away from his face. He made sure to untangle any knots from the back of his scalp while his subject didn't react at all; it was almost as if Mark was frozen in place. James took his time, letting his hands rest on the back on Mark's neck while he just let him, eyes half closed and lips parted. 

Their gazes meet but no words were spoken. They were completely silent, drowned in each other for what felt like ages. Finally, James cleared his throat as he pulled his hands away. "So what do you do here?" His voice was struggling to come out, his mind was foggy.

"Ah." Mark snapped out of his trance. "Well," he smiled and it felt even more inviting, more dangerous than before but a part of James wanted to take the bait. "I usually go see you, but since you're already here-" he lifted his hand up to touch him but awkwardly let it rest at the back of his own neck instead. "Wanna go for a stroll?"

* * *

The dawn snuck up on them while they were playing with the field’s flowers. James had made up a game where they made up meanings to every blossomed weed. 

"This- I had this at home. This is impossible to kill." James scoffed; it was the kind of weed that would grow in between the stones if it had to, crowned by small pink buds. "This is intensity."

"Resilience" Mark fought him, laying on his stomach on the grass and picking the small flower to make it twirl in between his fingers. 

"Stubbornness." James insisted

"Good enough, I’ll take it." Mark laughed, losing his train of thought the moment their gazes met. "Oh, is it bedtime yet?" He noticed the orange tones crawling up the horizon. "That's a shame." 

"Well, let's go then." James got up and yawned. He didn't notice before just how tired he was; he was having so much fun, time just slipped through his fingers. 

They walked back to the tower but Mark stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

"What's wrong?" James asked simply.

"I don't wanna make you feel you're obligated to  sleep with me. " Mark shrugged and looked away, the sunrise evidencing his childish pout. 

"Oh don't say that, you're not sleeping on the stairs again." James encouraged him to move forward, leading him by the waist. He made sure he was tucked in before sitting at the other side of the bed to take off his shoes and get in himself. By the time James laid down, Mark was already asleep: he looked almost heavenly, mouth agape and hugging the pillow tightly. He reached out to him but decided against it midway. Or was enough to be able to watch him sleep peacefully, without the smell of battle creeping into them. He deserves the peaceful  rest .


	12. From dawn to dusk

It's been a few days already; James still wasn't used to waking up holding Mark in his arms, still sleeping soundly. For a supernatural entity, he had a pretty darn deep sleep. He hugged the vampire closer, letting his hand run up to Mark's chest only to feel him stirring awake. 

"Mh?" Mark was a man of few words in the morning; it took him a while to understand his surroundings."morning." He said finally, holding James' hand in his.

"I'm impressed at how hard it is to wake you up. Aren't you supposed to always be alert?" James chuckled and felt his companion stir in his grasp.

"No." Mark answered simply. "You can protect me." 

"You're eternal. I won't always be here" James complained. He knew the vampire was more than a decent match: he could easily break spines of animals twice his size with one hand. He has seen Mark do it. 

"I have always protected you." Mark shrugged. "And I always will." He scooted back against James and chuckled slightly at the sensation of James' nose against his neck. “It¡s your turn now.”

It was a weird kind of intimacy they shared; James felt strangely drawn to him, as if Mark knew every way to make him tick even before he himself did. His hair smelled of morning dew and wood smoke. They stayed up until late last night again. Just like the first night they spent together.

James's heart suddenly sunk. It's been days and he's spent them in such a ridiculously unreal bliss he forgot about them. The Order. Human one and his peers had to be looking for him either as a hostage or as a traitor. Either way, Mark always loses. It's been even long enough to justify a wider approach. What could he do if the Order came for backup?

"James? Are you okay?" Mark pulled out of his embrace to turn to him. "Your heart is running like crazy, and not in the 'I'm so glad I found someone this beautiful to spend my days with' way."

"What if they come back?" James just let his heart pour out of his mouth, his voice breaking slightly. "What if the forest can't stop them again?"

"It will." Mark answered sharply. "and if it doesn't, I will." He adds, cupping James' face in his hands. "I will defend us, James. Always." 

James only nodded and swallowed his words.  _ I don't know if I want you to.  _

He's been in the tower for long enough to gather his thoughts but his mind still felt clouded, conflicted about Mark's nature. About everything he was leaving behind. Was it worth it? Should he fight for it? When the time is right, would he fight?

The wind howled in between the trees. A storm was coming.

* * *

The forest seemed agitated; the sky was slightly grey and the weather was nice but the foliage wouldn't stop stirring, as if it was getting ready for something. James felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins, a chill running down his back, but couldn't see the threat. He could see Mark getting distracted, his eyes focused on the trees. 

"You should eat up and stay inside tonight." He said looking in the direction of the town. To James, there was nothing but a wall of trees, but Mark could hear something in the distance. 

"We're not bathing together today?" James pouted jokingly but Mark wasn't paying attention, focused on the sound. He cherished every moment they could share together; it was unlike him to skip them. 

"I know, I'm sorry, we will but not now." Mark smiled but the tremor of fear hung tightly to his words. 

Something was happening. Something big enough to make the forest tremble.

"Eat and come back, okay? I'll check what's going on." Mark tried to keep a steady tone but his words skipped out of his mouth in such a hurry, James was tempted to get his scythe just in case. 

"I'll stay around, but where are you going?" James asked worryingly. If anything happened they'd need to stick together. 

"I have to see what's making the forest so restless. I'll be back to look for you." Mark looked at him and James' blood froze in his veins. He was scared. He never looked scared. 

James did what any warrior would do: he needed to hold the fort for when the battle comes, no matter how little information he had. His companion was scared enough to ask him to stay: there were no more words needed. 

He armed himself and waited at the gate, on guard, for the danger to come but nothing happened. For hours, he stood on his own, waiting; even Simba was nowhere to be found. By the time Mark came back with his cat at his feet, he was disheveled and tired; his eyes shone with a strange spark, pupils dilated. Even his fangs looked bigger, as if his gums had retracted. He licked at a lost string of blood dripping along his fingers. 

He's been hunting. 

"Go upstairs." He growled sternly, and his tongue ran hardly alongside the edge of his teeth. James could still see the fresh red in his mouth. He froze in place. "I said go!"

"What have you done?" James asked slowly, gripping his scythe so tight his hand started trembling. "Mark, what happened?" He felt his throat closing up, as if he just swallowed his heart and was choking on it. "What did you do?" 

"What had to be done." Mark tried to smile but his abnormal teeth pushed his lips so far up he looked like a rabid dog. "You knew what was coming; we talked about this."

The Order. They came for him. Or for Mark, or both. They were probably gonna exterminate them both but it was still his family. James couldn't possibly harm them in any way. Not his siblings in arms. Not Human one.

"Who? Who did you kill? How many?" He started feeling dizzy; suddenly his world shifted from peaceful bliss to a bloodshed no one could win. This was a massacre, no matter how it was gonna end. And he could not stop it. 

"Who cares. Go the fuck away!" Mark yelled at him before turning to the trees. They were coming. Dozens of men commanded by the best fighter they had in years. 

James had almost forgotten her voice."You foul demon, stop there!" She shouted out before noticing the man at the tower. "James? Is that you?" 

"Human one! Please, this is pointless, you need to stop." James started but heard Mark snickering beside him. 

"They came for a monster; they've found him." Mark cracked his fingers, exposing long sharp nails already stained red.

"He's not what he says he is, James, please listen." Human one kept talking but didn't take her gaze off the vampire, her sword in between them. "I just saw him gut one of ours from waist to throat, like cattle." Mark was taunting her, walking slowly towards her while her sword threatened him. Her voice was pleading. "He just stuck his hand into him and spread him out, James; you have to believe me." 

James could see the intention behind their eyes: they were both eager to kill, but he couldn't figure out what to do. He couldn't move a finger. 

Not until Mark pounced on Human one; his nails sparked against the blade as she blocked his attack. The second blow went for her hand but she quickly reacted, swinging the weapon back. The force of them clashing sent them both backwards, but she staggered and stuck her sword into the ground for support. The limp: Mark could see it. There's no way she could defend herself again. Even with a dagger he would get to her before she could unsheath it. 

"No, stop!" James finally snapped, dropping the scythe and running to get in between them just as Mark lifted his arm to slash her open. 

James felt the stinging, the blood seeping through his clothing. The hissing. He saw the change up close; Mark's teeth glistened in the dark, his mouth retreating back and foaming like a rabid dog. His pupils dilated, brown turned to bright eerie red with the color of thirst. There was nothing human in him anymore. He paused for a moment as his breath hitched, as if he was trying to stop himself, but still tried to go at James who pushed him back with enough force to knock him down. James took Human one's sword and used it as a blunt shield; he kept blocking Mark's blind advances, making him retreat at every blow. He hit the vampire on the chest to throw him against the stone wall and pressed his sword flat on his rival's neck. 

Mark tried to talk but any sound out of his mouth sounded feral, growled in between the sputtered reddish saliva dripping on the blade. He put his hands on James' arm but didn't make any effort to move him; it felt more like he was trying to get the hunter's attention.

"That thing is not human, James. You know it. You need to let go." Human one shouted behind them but James wasn't listening. "You've sacrificed enough for it. Are you gonna give it all up for a beast?" 

Mark's face was  morphed into a horrible grimace , his mouth stretched back baring unnatural fangs covered in bloody foam, his eyes bloodshot and glowing red. He was a monster, the kind James was trained to kill but there was something behind his eyes, something that begged to be heard. James grabbed Mark tightly by his neck, lowering the sword; didn't even wince at the animalistic sounds coming out of the vampire, trying to scare him. 

Mark's gaze became softer, more familiar as James tried to reach out for any trace of humanity left in him. 

"I only wanted you to be happy, always." Mark said in between hisses; he was fighting his predatory nature and his body was fighting back. "You're horrified." 

James wanted to prove him wrong but couldn't say a word: he was hypnotized by the vision of teeth going back into place in loud cracks, gums lowering down. 

"It's a hard choice you're making." Mark's voice came back down to his sultry collected self, even when James could hear that confidence wasn't real. 

"It's my choice to make." He pushed back, taking his hand off Mark's neck to wipe at his lips. "You had your turn."

"Look how that turned out." Mark smiled tiredly. "I told you before, my life is yours to have." James felt Mark's hand enveloping his, holding his blade in the process.  "Yours is still your own to live." 

"What? No!" It was already too late: Mark pulled him into a gentle kiss by his neck but by the time their lips touched there was no more force left in his body; he sunk against him like a ragdoll, the sword poking out of his back. 

He's lived for centuries only to spend a few days with James. He's lived through hunts and horror and blood. He's survived it all.

He couldn't survive the idea of James leaving it all behind for good. He couldn't bear the blame for James to feel the pain of watching everything you love die around you, not even with him by his side. 

Mark has loved James, never needed anything else.

James' world faded to black.


	13. A new page

It's been two years since he's last seen his hometown. James had almost no recollection of what happened that night, how he got back home. He remembered the way his heart turned into a rock at the bottom of his ribcage, how his throat closed up. Human one was talking to him but he couldn't understand the words, couldn't say a thing. 

He just stood there for the longest time with a cold limp body in his arms. A sword in between them. A sword that wasn't even his. 

It's been two years since he took whatever of value he could carry out of his home and left towards the horizon. He never asked where he was, what city he was staying in. He'd work for food and shelter and listen. Just like mark there had to be others. There were always others. Those who gave their life away for someone else, those who fought an evil impulse out of love. 

He found many and he did the only thing he could do. He knew how the Order operated, how to recognize the signs of a hunt. How to tell hunters apart. James trained them, a whole resistance of supernatural humane people that just wanted to live in peace. He took shelter in one of their houses, wherever he went, and set up his meetings. He would have been a good Commander, he thought: just as good as Human one. 

James still wrote to her sometimes. Send a druid with a pigeon or a shape shifter or a vampire to leave a note for her the night before his leave. He never waited for a reply. There might be letters for him somewhere, but if he wanted to read them he'd just go see her. He just needed to know she knew he was fine, and he was not coming back. He had everything he needed: a mission he didn't doubt anymore, and the man in his dreams, still coming to him every night,  even if it's not the same, even if it's not real. 

"My life is yours", Mark had said, and he proved his point well . James stared at the piece of canvas he hung on the wall in front of his bed. It was old and tattered and the whole left side was ripped off, but it was exactly what he needed. Simba brought it to him before the forest closed down the night he left. 

No matter how his day was, he could look at the canvas and feel safe. An older, much more understanding version of him would look back, portraying a life he could only enjoy for a few days. But Mark's confident gaze looked back at him from the painting and eased his sorrows so easily.  James had his life, yes, but Mark always held his heart . 

James had promised to give just as much as he had. He was gonna make the world a better place, even for Mark's kin, no matter what. Even if he had to fight the order himself. 

Every night he slept peacefully, knowing he was doing right by Mark, by them all who needed his protection. Every night, knowing Mark would be waiting for him at an abandoned tower in his dreams to hold him again. 

James didn't need anything else. 


End file.
